Nineteen. End of the Little Prince.
19. Wait, what? Am I? No, stop it. End of my teen era? No way.
I obnoxiously stopped feeling special on my birthdays after my 13th. The people I needed weren’t there anymore. It wasn’t special. I wasn’t happy. But I kept celebrating. Pretending. Because I didn’t want to end my little-prince-hood era. I kept lying — not to others, but to myself.
Even though it wasn’t special anymore, I couldn’t stop acting like a kid. Because who wants responsibility, right? Fuck it. Who cares what’s going to happen to you, besides yourself?
Up until now, I worked hard for one reason: to make my father proud. I lived for the satisfaction in his eyes. Nothing else mattered — not praise, not awards. Just his approval.
But I’m done with that. Not in a bitter way — just… I have to move on. I think he’s proud. Maybe he never said it out loud. But I felt it.
Things I care about have changed. I care more about the people around me now. I always did, but it wasn’t my priority. Now it is.
Some find peace in religion. Others in meditation. For me, it’s in service. Helping others. Giving back. I wake up with faith in change. Even when what I’m doing seems wrong, I know my end goal — giving something back.
I didn’t have a purpose writing this. Just woke up at 3AM and thought about myself.
I’m grown up now. Not a teen anymore. I’ve been doing things illegally since 14, and now I can finally do them legally. I just burned that kid today. And promised — to myself only — that I will make something of this life.
Good days or bad, I’ll stand by myself. Because I know others won’t. I hope this chapter will be full of memories I’ll cherish. And when I’m old, I won’t regret.
I’m still figuring things out. Still learning how to slow down. Still teaching myself it. However, to the ones who stuck around, even when I couldn’t explain what I was going through — thank you.
